Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1887-10-09

not lightly undertaken in those
days. Many months had elapsed
since he set out spring with its pro-
mise, summer with it ful6lment, au-
tumn with its memories, had all
alike passed away, and stern, cold win
ter was az hand when he once more |
came riding home. The last ten miles |
had been ridden in q bitter northeast |
wind that foretold coming snow, and |
had il not been for that threat in the |
air and the news OF the disordered state
Of the country that had met him on his
arrival, Sir Loyelace would have obeyed |
the wishes of his followers and stayed
the night at che inn where he had dined
but prudence had urged different
course. And the journey over, stand
lng once more under his owR roof, un-
seen for so long time, it seemed well
worth the extra fatigue and discom-
fort
The great hall was well lighted
maids aud men were hurrying hither and
thither preparing the supper OF which
the wanderer stood in need, and, after
his long absence, the mingled splendor
and comfort were well worth looking
on. And while the thought yet passed
through bis mind his mother was by
his side welcoming him with the loving
words that she had for no one else.
For Lady Eleanor Carew was the
naughty descendant Of proud line,
and she was cold and hard to all
but this cherished son. And son
well worth the cherishing, rs he
stood before her echoing her tender
words in his gray eyes, though, there
sbone a softer light than in her own,
which had never smiled on the world as
his did. If she had given the fine, we'll
cut features of her own race. some
thing tender and human had softened
them from chill marble outline into
warm flesh and blood. But, though
her stern soul revolted from the levity
of the thought, she found pleasure
in bis beauty, pride in the memory
that her snow-white, laced-veiled hair
had once been as bright as the soft
curls about his brow. Eager questions
and answers, there was so much to hear,
so much to tell J.; for moment holding
his hand in hers, conscious only OF his
return, she was unaware of aught else
But that first supreme moment over,
there was forced upon her conscious
ness that which up till now had taken
no form nor substance. A slender
figure wrapped in furs that stood
apart in the shadows of the old hall
stood apart, and yet whose soft eyes,
with something appealing in their
dark depths, never quilted this
travel-stained figure by her side.
But before she had time to say the
words that lowered in her brain he had
turned, as with a sudden reminder, and
had stretched out his hand, speaking a
few words in French. Words to which
the girl responded with smile, while
she drew nearer. glancing from mother
to son, as if striving to gather the sense
of the explanation he was rendering IN
this unknown tongue.
"She is orphaned and penniless, he
explained. Her mother, distant rela-
tive of the Queen, has committed her
to her care, and General Ashworth,
with whom | was travelling, had under
taken to give her into her Maiestys
charge at the request OF brother, who,
a soldier, could do nothing for her.
But when the General learned Of the
dissst, rs here, Of the uncertainty that
bangs about the court, he deemed it
best she should come TO Heydon until
be had seen the Queen and learned
whst could be done"
There was no reasonable word to be
said against it, and yet to Lady Flea
nor If held some subtle hidden sting.
She was conscious of something
almost approaching dislike as she noted.
now that the hood had fallen back, the
close dark curls which lent additional
youth to the girl-and she was in truth
| ittlemore than child-the softrounded
outlines of check and chin. 81 will
bid a room to be prepared for her" she
said. 81 will call Dorothy to see to it. "
But. upheeding Of the words, the girl
still renamed by the mans side till he
turned, repeating them in her own Ian
guage.
"She speaks no English" he ex-
planned.
But when she understood his words,
before following the old servant who
had been summoned to help her, she
said, 81 will learn" and with pref
~. cercmonious grace stopped and
Kissed old Lady Eleauor's white hand
before following her attendant.
But at night, when the substantial
snpper was over and mother and son
sat side by side by the great open
hearth talking over all the new terrors
that had arisen to shake the heart OF
England with prophecy of coming
woe, she did not accept Lady Eleanor's
suggestion that she was wearled and
bad better retire, neither did she seat
herself on the vacant chair by Lady
Eleanor, but drew a stool up TO the side
of Sir Iovelace's great oak chair, and
seated herself where the flames glanced
fitfullv on to her dark curls, and there,
maybe. she DIRE AIMED dreams of her own
future. while overhead, dimly heard
and quite uncomprehended, surged the
low. earnest talk in that foreign tongue
The fierce storm that greeted their
arrival blew itself out III time. Febtu'
airy dawned with faint CLEANS OF wet
sunshine, which yet encouraged the
holder spring flowers to find their way
into the upper air. Sir Lovela e,
going hither and thither, renewing ac-
ouaintance with those from whom he
had been separated so long, taxing his
brain to make arrangem nts for the
fresh departure that was so close at
hand, was scarcely more conscious OF
the eirlish figure that was ever by his
side than Of his deerhound or his
shadow. But to Lady Eleanor it bore
another significance, which threatened
her, though formlessly.
"What plans do you intend to make
about this child when you go?" she
asked. "Would it not be as well to
, place her in a convent? Happily hel
religion admits of such shelter fol
: homeless women"
"Nay, not homeless, mother. Hey
? don is surely big enough to shelter
that child till better days dawn for her.
t 10 the lady of Heydon. to the daugh
Q ter of the Veres, it was alike impossible
( TO frame word that might SAVIOR OF in
n hospitality. Perhaps Felicite was heed
r less, she was but child at heart. Any
s how, she failed to note anything amis'
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